Many words could be used to describe the Adril Tythorin Memorial Hospital. Grandiose and luxurious would no doubt rank highly among them. It promised wellness, and deluxe services. The hospital's Holonet site proudly proclaimed that its suites combined six-star luxury, privacy, and outstanding patient care, with catering being fully tailored to the patient's requirements.
For those who could pay a staggering price, of course. Firemane, naturally, promised quality healthcare for its employees...tailored to their 'service' to the company. Strangely, Tygaran employees received lower quality care than galaxy ones. Security was tight at all times. One could not be too careful ever since a terrorist insurgency had set Tygara, the jewel in Firemane's crown, on fire. But the Arx Aeternae was safe, assuredly. A human woman whose ID identified her as a cleaner did not raise any eyebrows. Her security pass was checked, and she was searched. Nothing out of the ordinary. A slightly strange accent, but not everyone could speak proper Coruscanti Basic. Later a security guard would admit it was odd that she was wearing a veil. Was she perhaps hiding pointed elf ears? But there were all manners of strange customs in the galaxy...
Propaganda posters on the walls of the foyer and corridors glorified noble Firemane, the Great Leader Siobhan Kerrigan, and the incredible opportunities Firemane was offering. Safety, security, prosperity! What was new was informative posters warning the denizens of the Arx about the malevolent terrorist threat. Sociopathic and insane cultists, led by a near demonic-looking Elpsis Kerrigan, sought to drown civilisation in blood. It was naturally expected that a cleaner would go off to collect her trolley with cleaning equipment, and then begin her shift. It just so happened that her shift would take her to the top floor, where a very special patient lived. Indeed, the whole floor had been cleared for just this one patient.
Guards once again checked her credentials before she was granted entrance into the aptly named royal suite. Normally, there would've been an Order of Fire Force adept on patrol. But not today. After all, there was a war going on. 'Mundanes' would suffice, surely. Spread over 200 square metres, with dining, lounge and bedroom areas, opulent furniture throughout, and a luxurious marble bathroom. It had been claimed that said bathroom contained a gold-plated toilet seat. Long withered orchids were housed in a vase. No one had seen fit to replace the dead flowers, and the dry vase on the table. Get-well-soon cards had piled up.
The sole occupant of the royal suite had not been able to enjoy the manifold amenities. She lay in a queen-sized bed, beneath a crystal chandelier and connected to a myriad machines. Time had not been kind to Siobhan Kerrigan. She was gaunt, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes hollow. The 'firemane' was greying.
The 'Sky Queen' had slumbered for a long time. Struck down by Darth Soteria, kept alive by machinery, trapped in limbo between life and death. Once her cultists had gone on veritable pilgrimages to behold their 'saviour' and make obeisance to her, praying for deliverance, a miracle. Not anymore. Her greed, her selfishness, and her crimes were too well-known now to the natives who had once mistaken her for a wise and benign demigoddess. In her absence, the oligarchs she had empowered had governed. Her wife fiddled while the corporate 'empire' burnt, a leech.
But one act remained. A camera hovered above Lady Kerrigan's prone form, while the cleaner began to mopping. The cleaner cast a glance towards the guards outside, but they were paying her no mind. Time to get started. She pressed a little catch on the mop, and an ion dart soared forth. Bzzt. The camera went dead. Immediately, she put down the mop, and removed the package hidden inside the trolley, depositing the ion charge beneath the machinery.
Putting all the cleaning equipment back in the trolley, she immediately left the room. By the time the technician arrived to check on the camera, she had left this floor. Whistling a tune, he entered the room...right when the charge detonated, unleashing an electrocstatic pulse. Overwhelmed by the ion pulse, the technician fell to his feet. This close, brain damage was a serious risk. The complex array of machinery keeping the Lady alive was fried. The air was filled with the smell of burnt electronics. Scorched by pieces of machinery, Siobhan flatlined.
Siobhan Kerrigan, Dark Jedi, CEO, Queen, died not surrounded by friends and family, but alone. She had been endowed with incredible strength in the Force, attained mind-boggling wealth, and for a time been hailed a saviour. How ironic that none of it availed her. In the end, these were but millstones weighing her down, a veil that blinded her to a fundamental truth. Sic transit gloria mundi.
xxx
The massive press conference hall of Firemane Headquarters was teeming with curious reporters when a grave looking High Admiral Jacinda Fleischer made her entranced, flanked by a small legion of aides, Firemane officers and senior officials. Her immaculate blue uniform was looped with gold braid and epaulettes. Down the front was a series of twenty golden buttons, on the shoulder boards was the image of a majestic phoenix, claws out.
Immediately, the room was filled with murmurs, but she paid them no mind. At a nod from her, a member of her entourage stepped forward towards the podium. Behind her the emblem of Firemane, a glorious phoenix, hung on the wall. The podium was flanked by Firemane banners.
Director Vivian was beautifully dressed as usual in an elegant women's business suit with a tailored blazer and pants. Not one hair was out of place, her dark skin was flawless. If there were bags under her eyes, well, these were stressful times. The click-clack of her heels on the floor echoed. "Firemane, a great tragedy has occured. A crime that will live infamy," she began. "Lady Siobhan Kerrigan was a hero, a relentless defender of all this is right, an inspiration to girls across the galaxy. Two days ago, our Founder was cruelly and cowardly murdered." More murmurs. Surprise, uncertainty, fear, curiosity - the hall was awash with these conflicting emotions. But no grief. For what was there to mourn? "Firemane intelligence has verified that her killer was a Vash terrorist acting on the behest of the traitor Elpsis Kerrigan. The assassin was apprehended and took poison like a coward rather than face Firemane justice."
"With this foul deed, Elpsis - I dare not call her Kerrigan, for she doesn't deserve the name - has shown once again that she is a vile brigand, as traitorous as any Sith. It was not enough to plunge Tygara into an awful war; it was not enough to murder unarmed prisoners of war in cold blood; it was not enough to feed dead soldiers and valued Firemane employees to animals in a savage display of disrespect. No, she had to murder her own mother, the very woman who welcomed her into her home and raised her from nothing!"
"No one can replace Siobhan. Her death leaves a vacuum...one that must and will be filled. We must look forward to the future, for that is what she would've wanted. By unanimous vote, the Board has appointed Admiral Fleischer Commander-in-Chief of all Firemane forces. As a result of the uncertainty, all regular trade inspections will be increased..."
"Thank you, Vivian," the Admiral suddenly interrupted brusquely. For the briefest of moments, Vivian's lips tightened slightly, but she quickly stepped aside, and Fleischer took the stage. Her steely blue eyes gazed upon the assembled journalists, and the millions of viewers she knew were following the broadcast. Expression severe, back straight, voice serious and commanding.
"Siobhan Kerrigan. She was a great woman, my dear, dear friend. Murdered in cold blood by the brainwashed lackey of a madwoman. As my first official act, I'm declaring martial law across the Arx. Mark my words, she and her cultists will be brought to justice. We freed Suqua from her madness, and we're going to finish the job. Anyone who gives these terrorists shelter will share their fate."
"Tygara and Arkas," she raised her index finger, "will be safe again, prosperous again. They will be orderly again. And to all Tygarans who have been deceived by her lies or who think they can sit on the sidelines, I have one thing to say: you face the choice between civilisation and savagery, between order and chaos. There's no middle ground. No longer will we be hamstrung by arbitrary borders. Bandits who flee into 'neutral territory' will find no respite. Effective immediately, I am empowering our military commanders to assume direct executive authority in their operational..."
xxx
Static flashed over the holoscreens through which millions of Firemane employees had watched the broadcast. The image of the Admiral in the pristine conference room vanished. In her place was a dimly lit cave and a familiar figure with long, tousled red hair, dead white eyes and a viciously scarred face. Scars that were like tiny, glowing tributaries as if lava flowed languid and threatening under her skin. As if she was slowly burning from the inside out. Frenetic bursts of electrical scarring disappeared under the collar of a tan camouflage uniform devoid of adornments or insignia. The left arm was made of metal and wires.
"'An inspiration to girls across the galaxy,'" Elpsis spat, words dripping with scorn, while she meticulously cleaned a disassembled Cylix bolt pistol. "Let's recap: what can Siobhan teach these girls? How to be a fraud, how to trick millions of former slaves into letting her place a collar around their necks. How to poison a planet's waters, its forests and its people with strip-mining and call it progress. How to sacrifice thousands upon thousands of soldiers who placed their trust in you for the sake of your own ego. How to make a fortune from the blood, sweat and tears of millions of workers who'll live in poverty while you party in one of your villas with golden toilets. How to profit from floods by buying native land on the cheap to build mansions on it. How to be a complete failure as a mother. And how to get a greedy, spineless, stupid trophy wife who's just as horrid as you."
She put the various gun parts back together. "We don't have much time, so let's get this straight: Sadly, I didn't kill Siobhan Kerrigan. Nor did any of my people. I apologise to all Tygarans for not burning her alive," having finished reassembling the Cylix, she smacked a magazine into it, cocked the gun. "My only regret is that someone beat me to it. That someone, a coward, pulled a plug from a machine, and robbed me of the chance to destroy the false queen myself. But if the scum want to eat each other...by all means. If I'd killed Siobhan, it wouldn't have been quick, it would have been known to all with fire, ash, and ruin. And let's be clear, I wouldn't leave it to someone else.
So I tell you that I did not kill Siobhan, but I wish I had, and I will correct this mistake on her lickspittles which stand in my path. Your fate will be her fate...but much more painful. I'm going to kill Firemane's board, I'm going to kill that pathetic, abusive parasite Tegaea Alcori, I'm going to kill Firemane's high command. Rejoice, the tyrant's where she belongs - in the dustbin of history. Good riddance. Her lackeys will join her. We're coming for them. I'm coming for them."
xxx
"The transfer has been made," the caller's voice was mechanical, distorted, obfuscating both gender and identity in general. There was no image.
"Usual rate," their interlocutor said. She'd long gotten rid of her outfit as a cleaner, as well as the veil. Her voice sounded different as well. There was a bit of a Telosian accent there. The curtains had been drawn, and the room was dimly lit.
"Certainly. I trust you understand the importance of discretion. We've had a productive partnership. It would be unfortunate if we had to...sever it...Sapphire."
'Sapphire' took a drag from her cigarette. "You done yet? I'm going on holiday. Somewhere nice and far away."
"See that you do. We will contact you if your services are needed again."
The connection faded. "Not coming back to this shithole," Sapphire muttered to herself, blowing out a ring of smoke.
For those who could pay a staggering price, of course. Firemane, naturally, promised quality healthcare for its employees...tailored to their 'service' to the company. Strangely, Tygaran employees received lower quality care than galaxy ones. Security was tight at all times. One could not be too careful ever since a terrorist insurgency had set Tygara, the jewel in Firemane's crown, on fire. But the Arx Aeternae was safe, assuredly. A human woman whose ID identified her as a cleaner did not raise any eyebrows. Her security pass was checked, and she was searched. Nothing out of the ordinary. A slightly strange accent, but not everyone could speak proper Coruscanti Basic. Later a security guard would admit it was odd that she was wearing a veil. Was she perhaps hiding pointed elf ears? But there were all manners of strange customs in the galaxy...
Propaganda posters on the walls of the foyer and corridors glorified noble Firemane, the Great Leader Siobhan Kerrigan, and the incredible opportunities Firemane was offering. Safety, security, prosperity! What was new was informative posters warning the denizens of the Arx about the malevolent terrorist threat. Sociopathic and insane cultists, led by a near demonic-looking Elpsis Kerrigan, sought to drown civilisation in blood. It was naturally expected that a cleaner would go off to collect her trolley with cleaning equipment, and then begin her shift. It just so happened that her shift would take her to the top floor, where a very special patient lived. Indeed, the whole floor had been cleared for just this one patient.
Guards once again checked her credentials before she was granted entrance into the aptly named royal suite. Normally, there would've been an Order of Fire Force adept on patrol. But not today. After all, there was a war going on. 'Mundanes' would suffice, surely. Spread over 200 square metres, with dining, lounge and bedroom areas, opulent furniture throughout, and a luxurious marble bathroom. It had been claimed that said bathroom contained a gold-plated toilet seat. Long withered orchids were housed in a vase. No one had seen fit to replace the dead flowers, and the dry vase on the table. Get-well-soon cards had piled up.
The sole occupant of the royal suite had not been able to enjoy the manifold amenities. She lay in a queen-sized bed, beneath a crystal chandelier and connected to a myriad machines. Time had not been kind to Siobhan Kerrigan. She was gaunt, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes hollow. The 'firemane' was greying.
The 'Sky Queen' had slumbered for a long time. Struck down by Darth Soteria, kept alive by machinery, trapped in limbo between life and death. Once her cultists had gone on veritable pilgrimages to behold their 'saviour' and make obeisance to her, praying for deliverance, a miracle. Not anymore. Her greed, her selfishness, and her crimes were too well-known now to the natives who had once mistaken her for a wise and benign demigoddess. In her absence, the oligarchs she had empowered had governed. Her wife fiddled while the corporate 'empire' burnt, a leech.
But one act remained. A camera hovered above Lady Kerrigan's prone form, while the cleaner began to mopping. The cleaner cast a glance towards the guards outside, but they were paying her no mind. Time to get started. She pressed a little catch on the mop, and an ion dart soared forth. Bzzt. The camera went dead. Immediately, she put down the mop, and removed the package hidden inside the trolley, depositing the ion charge beneath the machinery.
Putting all the cleaning equipment back in the trolley, she immediately left the room. By the time the technician arrived to check on the camera, she had left this floor. Whistling a tune, he entered the room...right when the charge detonated, unleashing an electrocstatic pulse. Overwhelmed by the ion pulse, the technician fell to his feet. This close, brain damage was a serious risk. The complex array of machinery keeping the Lady alive was fried. The air was filled with the smell of burnt electronics. Scorched by pieces of machinery, Siobhan flatlined.
Siobhan Kerrigan, Dark Jedi, CEO, Queen, died not surrounded by friends and family, but alone. She had been endowed with incredible strength in the Force, attained mind-boggling wealth, and for a time been hailed a saviour. How ironic that none of it availed her. In the end, these were but millstones weighing her down, a veil that blinded her to a fundamental truth. Sic transit gloria mundi.
xxx
The massive press conference hall of Firemane Headquarters was teeming with curious reporters when a grave looking High Admiral Jacinda Fleischer made her entranced, flanked by a small legion of aides, Firemane officers and senior officials. Her immaculate blue uniform was looped with gold braid and epaulettes. Down the front was a series of twenty golden buttons, on the shoulder boards was the image of a majestic phoenix, claws out.
Immediately, the room was filled with murmurs, but she paid them no mind. At a nod from her, a member of her entourage stepped forward towards the podium. Behind her the emblem of Firemane, a glorious phoenix, hung on the wall. The podium was flanked by Firemane banners.
Director Vivian was beautifully dressed as usual in an elegant women's business suit with a tailored blazer and pants. Not one hair was out of place, her dark skin was flawless. If there were bags under her eyes, well, these were stressful times. The click-clack of her heels on the floor echoed. "Firemane, a great tragedy has occured. A crime that will live infamy," she began. "Lady Siobhan Kerrigan was a hero, a relentless defender of all this is right, an inspiration to girls across the galaxy. Two days ago, our Founder was cruelly and cowardly murdered." More murmurs. Surprise, uncertainty, fear, curiosity - the hall was awash with these conflicting emotions. But no grief. For what was there to mourn? "Firemane intelligence has verified that her killer was a Vash terrorist acting on the behest of the traitor Elpsis Kerrigan. The assassin was apprehended and took poison like a coward rather than face Firemane justice."
"With this foul deed, Elpsis - I dare not call her Kerrigan, for she doesn't deserve the name - has shown once again that she is a vile brigand, as traitorous as any Sith. It was not enough to plunge Tygara into an awful war; it was not enough to murder unarmed prisoners of war in cold blood; it was not enough to feed dead soldiers and valued Firemane employees to animals in a savage display of disrespect. No, she had to murder her own mother, the very woman who welcomed her into her home and raised her from nothing!"
"No one can replace Siobhan. Her death leaves a vacuum...one that must and will be filled. We must look forward to the future, for that is what she would've wanted. By unanimous vote, the Board has appointed Admiral Fleischer Commander-in-Chief of all Firemane forces. As a result of the uncertainty, all regular trade inspections will be increased..."
"Thank you, Vivian," the Admiral suddenly interrupted brusquely. For the briefest of moments, Vivian's lips tightened slightly, but she quickly stepped aside, and Fleischer took the stage. Her steely blue eyes gazed upon the assembled journalists, and the millions of viewers she knew were following the broadcast. Expression severe, back straight, voice serious and commanding.
"Siobhan Kerrigan. She was a great woman, my dear, dear friend. Murdered in cold blood by the brainwashed lackey of a madwoman. As my first official act, I'm declaring martial law across the Arx. Mark my words, she and her cultists will be brought to justice. We freed Suqua from her madness, and we're going to finish the job. Anyone who gives these terrorists shelter will share their fate."
"Tygara and Arkas," she raised her index finger, "will be safe again, prosperous again. They will be orderly again. And to all Tygarans who have been deceived by her lies or who think they can sit on the sidelines, I have one thing to say: you face the choice between civilisation and savagery, between order and chaos. There's no middle ground. No longer will we be hamstrung by arbitrary borders. Bandits who flee into 'neutral territory' will find no respite. Effective immediately, I am empowering our military commanders to assume direct executive authority in their operational..."
xxx
Static flashed over the holoscreens through which millions of Firemane employees had watched the broadcast. The image of the Admiral in the pristine conference room vanished. In her place was a dimly lit cave and a familiar figure with long, tousled red hair, dead white eyes and a viciously scarred face. Scars that were like tiny, glowing tributaries as if lava flowed languid and threatening under her skin. As if she was slowly burning from the inside out. Frenetic bursts of electrical scarring disappeared under the collar of a tan camouflage uniform devoid of adornments or insignia. The left arm was made of metal and wires.
"'An inspiration to girls across the galaxy,'" Elpsis spat, words dripping with scorn, while she meticulously cleaned a disassembled Cylix bolt pistol. "Let's recap: what can Siobhan teach these girls? How to be a fraud, how to trick millions of former slaves into letting her place a collar around their necks. How to poison a planet's waters, its forests and its people with strip-mining and call it progress. How to sacrifice thousands upon thousands of soldiers who placed their trust in you for the sake of your own ego. How to make a fortune from the blood, sweat and tears of millions of workers who'll live in poverty while you party in one of your villas with golden toilets. How to profit from floods by buying native land on the cheap to build mansions on it. How to be a complete failure as a mother. And how to get a greedy, spineless, stupid trophy wife who's just as horrid as you."
She put the various gun parts back together. "We don't have much time, so let's get this straight: Sadly, I didn't kill Siobhan Kerrigan. Nor did any of my people. I apologise to all Tygarans for not burning her alive," having finished reassembling the Cylix, she smacked a magazine into it, cocked the gun. "My only regret is that someone beat me to it. That someone, a coward, pulled a plug from a machine, and robbed me of the chance to destroy the false queen myself. But if the scum want to eat each other...by all means. If I'd killed Siobhan, it wouldn't have been quick, it would have been known to all with fire, ash, and ruin. And let's be clear, I wouldn't leave it to someone else.
So I tell you that I did not kill Siobhan, but I wish I had, and I will correct this mistake on her lickspittles which stand in my path. Your fate will be her fate...but much more painful. I'm going to kill Firemane's board, I'm going to kill that pathetic, abusive parasite Tegaea Alcori, I'm going to kill Firemane's high command. Rejoice, the tyrant's where she belongs - in the dustbin of history. Good riddance. Her lackeys will join her. We're coming for them. I'm coming for them."
xxx
"The transfer has been made," the caller's voice was mechanical, distorted, obfuscating both gender and identity in general. There was no image.
"Usual rate," their interlocutor said. She'd long gotten rid of her outfit as a cleaner, as well as the veil. Her voice sounded different as well. There was a bit of a Telosian accent there. The curtains had been drawn, and the room was dimly lit.
"Certainly. I trust you understand the importance of discretion. We've had a productive partnership. It would be unfortunate if we had to...sever it...Sapphire."
'Sapphire' took a drag from her cigarette. "You done yet? I'm going on holiday. Somewhere nice and far away."
"See that you do. We will contact you if your services are needed again."
The connection faded. "Not coming back to this shithole," Sapphire muttered to herself, blowing out a ring of smoke.
